


Day After in 13 Words

by HawkEyed_Magicienne



Series: Multiverse of Halfshots [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Future, Gen, God - Freeform, Happy, Human, Lie, Lover - Freeform, M/M, Matt - Freeform, Mello - Freeform, No Dialogue, No-One's POV, Philosophy, Rain, Sorry Not Sorry, angt - kinda, crossposted, day after, difficulty, everybody's dead, near - Freeform, no these aren't trigger words, unless you're coded to cry, yesterday - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8775328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkEyed_Magicienne/pseuds/HawkEyed_Magicienne
Summary: Thirteen words describing the day after Kira was defeated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't decide on the words used prior to writing this, hell, I started writing with a completely different idea in mind…so if something doesn't make sense, it's probably the fault of my muse and too much Block B music (their lyrics, MVs and everything don't make any sense whatsoever). The words are: Rain, Human, Difficulty, God, Near, Mello, Lover, Matt, Happy, Lie, Death, Yesterday and Future. Crossposted from FFnet.
> 
> Warning - weird philosophy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own Death Note, if I did, Mello would've used the Note, killed Kira and Near and ruled the world xDDD

Rain.

Heavy drops pouring from the sky, reminding the occasional lone walker that the forces of nature can't be stopped, that after everything we've done, every single invention created to control and change the world, after all that we're all still human.

Human.

Such a fickle word describing what we are, what is our greatest strength and also greatest weakness, a word in which the universe has summarized the fate of man and made it unescapable, genial in its simplicity and at the same time incredibly stupid in its difficulty.

Difficulty.

It is a matter of great difficulty to decide what is good and what is bad, what is right and what is wrong, how the public should behave and how every individual should be judged for what he has or hasn't done by people that have dared to breach into the one duty that belongs solely to God.

God.

An omniscient, ever-present deity incapable of mistakes, or a little boy with a notebook playing a lost game with Death himself? A bored, black-winged monster or a kind, benevolent father of all that is always near?

Near.

On one side, a word used to describe situations in everyday life, so normal and so uninteresting. On the other side, a boy, a white apparition devoid of colours surrounded by a fortress of games and dice, the only coloration on him the small piece of chocolate that he holds between his teeth, his mind buried deep in thoughts that are dominated by the colour of the sun, the smell of leather and a voice of velvet, the voice of his only friend and eternal rival, Mello.

Mello.

A force of nature, unyielding and unforgiving, an unbeatable tornado of gold, black and icy blue, fuelled by rage, envy and pride. A whisper of that name instilled fear into the hearts of many, a sight of that gaze equalled immediate demise. And under it all, a young and hurt soul that was forced to grow up too fast too soon and was denied its rightful place in history by just a tiny strip of paper that deleted everything he was and could have been. A warrior, a criminal, a friend, a successor, a lover…

Lover.

A partner in bed, a friend in the harshest of times, someone to trust and to be affectionate with, someone who won't judge you no matter what, someone who knows your true self better than you do. The person that makes you coffee just as you like it without asking, because they know. The person that prepares you a bath when you come home from a long day at work and greets you with a smile, because they know. A person who will tell you when you're being immature or when you make a mistake, because they care. Someone you hold dear, someone like…Matt.

Matt.

He watches his only friend go and doesn't say a thing. He lately runs away too, travels through three countries to find said friend and spends a year looking for him. He then spends another two years just watching that person, not revealing himself or contacting him, he even gets a normal job and goes on with his life as if nothing happened. But when his friend calls from the middle of a burning warehouse, he drops everything and runs to the rescue, drags the other from the fire and nurses him back to health. He would die for his friend, and he does, bullets and cars stopping him from completing their suicide plan. Why? He doesn't know, but Mello is happy. He is happy and that's all that matters. He's happy.

Happy.

Happiness is a lie. A white lie that is used to convince innocents there actually is a meaning to life as we know it, life full of pain and suffering. A lie that says you can have a good life without hurting someone, that you can get a lover, kids, nice house, even a dog and nobody will envy you for it, that everybody has the right to get their own piece of paradise. But paradise is also only a lie.

Lie.

A verb, a noun. Means not telling the truth and/or making up something to cover it. A dry definition that doesn't capture the true meaning of lying, the terrible effect it has on both the liar and those he lies to. Lie. Spelled L-I-E, the L a mocking tribute to the one that fought to expose the truth, but in the end lied to those he held dear, his carefully fabricated lies joining him even in his death.

Death.

A moment of peace in the long day that is life, the cold depths of the ocean at the end of the world, the tail of a fairy from the books you used to read as a child, the light of the gold sleeping under a hill, the softness of an angel's feathers, the sureness with which Lucifer deals out cards in his halls, a speck of magic in the greyness that is today, a promise that will be made yesterday.

Yesterday.

The symbol of a closed chapter, of things already done, of words that shouldn't have been said, of actions that never should have happened. A symbol of regret, of things better off left in the past and forgotten, of life lost and memories gained. A symbol of what was sacrificed to gain something as insignificant as the future.

Future.

An open book, pages still fresh and white, words no yet created by those that will live another day. Because today is a day for grieving, because the ones that have left us will never come back.

Because the worst doesn't come in the moment of a great loss.

_It comes the day after._


End file.
